P’s R of Boulder, again.

So here I am again in the wonderful People’s Republic of Boulder (do they still call it that?) (Nobody tells me anything.) It is, as you might imagine, freezing. The temperatures these past days when we have been here are in what I like to term the basement of the world. When I last asked Siri, it was 5°. I do not want to talk to Siri any more for a while.

That’s the basement — figuratively. We have no actual basement here. We have a storage cage in the parking area which we lend to our neighbors because we haven’t accumulated enough stuff to need it, though I do try my best.

There has been some accumulation of frozen precipitation, but not enough to call it snow by Boulder’s standards, and definitely not enough for the people in the ski resorts to the west to call it snow. Time now for me to be pleased at not having added skiing to my sports, inasmuch as I have sports. Is Pilates a sport? Here it is.

The Miracle of the Snow

The Wednesday miracle

Wednesday, we were shin-deep in thick snow. A wondrous thing happened: cars in the street moved toward their destinations with neither surprise nor trepidation visible on the faces of their drivers. In the aisles of the local Safeway, no frenzied shoppers were dashing down the aisles screaming We’re all gonna diiiiiie!

Long-term effects

As of today — the Sunday after the snow — all passers-by are reduced to staring at a patch or two of the slush hiding in the shadow of a building and noting to themselves, “Hmm, not all gone yet, I see.”

Maybe the mental scars have simply not been able to manifest themselves in my consciousness yet. Either that, or I’ve lived in Ohio for too long.

Boulder snow

It’s snowing in Boulder — nothing better from my point of view. At home in Cincinnati, we get endless gray skies punctuated with a bit of rain. Here, mounds of lovely fluffy snow with the promise of the return of the sunshine within a couple of days.

I shall spend my day doing Pilates (they have a whole Institute here for the stuff!) and writing. And inevitably, I shall end up writing about sunshine and summer in Cincinnati. I can’t stand the irony!

Day after snow

It turns out that we had way more than ten inches of snow yesterday and last night: we had sixteen. Even in Boulder, that calls for places to shut down and people to stay at home until paths can be made through the stuff. Still none of the common Cincinnati attitude of “We’re all gonna die!!!” Refreshing.

Today’s sunny weather has rapidly been processing the snow back into water, which is convenient, except for the puddles around the snow-blocked street drains. It’s good to have waterproof walking shoes. Come to think of it, I don’t believe that anyone in Boulder owns shoes inappropriate for this kind of weather situation. There were no sparkly strappy sandals out today, not even on the feet of young college men who love to wear shorts and tee shirts in the dead of winter.

The only bare feet today were on Boulder’s dogs, which were out today again accompanying their humans on their daily rounds of coffee houses and shopping, instead of hiding inside with everyone else.

I wish there were something more interesting to write about, but there it is. Not bad, all in all.

The snow at night

Today in Boulder, the city shut down for about ten inches of snowfall. Unlike in Cincinnati, people here do not immediately decide that they are going to die as a consequence. There was nobody running around in a frenzy, heading out to the nearest grocery store to buy several bags of flour that, on more sober consideration, they have no idea what to do with.

We ventured out in the afternoon. Most places were closed, including the local Starbuck’s. If Starbuck’s is closed, you know it’s bad. Places that were open: a shoe store, the Boulder Café, the Boulder Book Store, though that last one was closing early due to the snow.

They are plowing the snow off of the streets now. It is night after this day of snow. The crunching of the snow underneath the tractors sounds like fireworks going off some distance away from where I sit. I was wondering what they were celebrating, and why I hadn’t been invited to it.